Coming Out
by mackerel sky
Summary: Updated to include a conversation between Seth & Kirsten pursuant to the three parts in which Seth & Ryan 1. Are getting it on 2. Fight & break up 3. Get a little stoned.
1. Thesis

Disclaimer: These are not my characters.

NB: This is not terribly graphic, but it is SLASH. If you do not like slash, please do not read this & yell at me afterward for grossing you out. Thank you. 

PS: To those of you who have been enjoying my fics, thank you for your time & your incredibly generous reviews. You guys are the best.

Ryan is doing something to his gear shift that involves removing the chain. He has spread a wide rectangle of newspaper on the patio and is covered in motor oil. Seth lies flat on his back just out of range, holding his skateboard in one hand. When Ryan announced this project, he thought he would come out and oil his bearings but he had no idea it was going to turn into such an ordeal. He closes his eyes and lets the sun burn patterns onto his lids. After a while he says, "Ryan? How's it going over there? Because I really don't want to be late for the---"

The rest of his sentence is cut off by the sound of an engine revving hard up the steep, short driveway and slamming to a halt. The odor of burnt rubber drifts over the fence. Seth opens his eyes to see Ryan looking hilariously alert. By the time Seth sits up, Ryan has already vanished around the corner of the house. Seth runs his fingers idly over his smoothly oiled wheels and waits for him to come back. 

Ryan looks bewildered. "That was your mom."

"Yeah. I figured."

"She left tire marks on the driveway." The driveway is surfaced with tiles of a pale, high-end concrete on which dripping olive oil is pretty much a grounding-worthy offense. Never mind motor oil. Never mind rubber.

"Yeah. I'd, uh, probably steer a little clear of her right now."

"What's going on?"

"Oh, god," says Seth, lying back down and holding his skateboard over his face. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Is she all right? Is it something to do with your grandpa?"

"Ah, no. Look, I'm not suggesting that you do this, but if you were to get into the Rover right now and turn it on, the stereo would be at like twelve decibels. And it would be on some crazy pop rock station. Or, like, Nirvana would be in the CD player."

"What are you talking about?"

"About twice a year my mom just gets, I don't know, really hormonal or something. She basically turns into a teenager. She drives too fast, she listens to young guys with really scratchy voices singing angst music and she gets kind of, uh," here Seth makes a face of extreme distaste, "she gets kind of aggressive with my dad."

Ryan looks alarmed. "She freaks out on your dad?"

"Ah, no. How to put this delicately. More like, I would really, really not walk down the hall past their bedroom if I were you."

Ryan is confused for a moment and then starts laughing.

"Oh, yes. Very, very funny. I can see exactly why you're having that reaction. Look, can you just put that damn thing back together so we can get out of here?" Seth stands up looking nervous. "I'm not sure how much time we have."

"Yeah. I'll, uh, yeah. No problem." 

Ryan feels exactly the opposite about parental sex. Literally the only good thing about his parents' marriage was their sex life. Nothing had ever been so reassuring as arriving home to hear, instead of yelling, the steady banging of the bed behind their closed door. Later they would emerge, affectionate and sleepy, and the four of them would have dinner together like a real family, his father drinking beer, his mother telling funny stories, sitting at the table and leaning into each other with a seamless rightness. 

He understands the average adolescent's queasiness at the idea of a parent even having a sex life, but as far as he is concerned, nothing could be better than tangible evidence that your parents love each other enough to make up and stay together and possibly take care of you in one place until you are old enough not to need them anymore. 

Twenty minutes later they are on the pier, Ryan in a fresh shirt but still streaked with grease. He has a black mark on one cheekbone that he proceeds to smear up to his temple when he runs his hand through his hair. Seth grabs his wrist with one hand and uses the other to rub at the mark. "I can't take you anywhere."

"Yeah, well, usually you don't have to." They are leaning up against the railing, a little too close together maybe, but no one is looking. Ryan smells like motor oil and laundry detergent. Seth closes his eyes and inhales. Ryan leans in and kisses him and smiles when Seth's eyes snap open. "So," he asks, "what's the plan?"

"I really don't want to see that movie anymore. Nothing with sex in it. Ugh. In fact, no offense, I don't know if I'll even be horny again for a month."

"Are you sure?" Ryan murmurs, pressing Seth back against the railing with his body and breathing into his neck. Seth is on the verge of caving when his eyes widen in warning and Ryan steps back, casually enough not to look guilty. Seth who has always thought of himself as fairly cagey, is continually amazed by Ryan's ability to dissemble about this stuff. Ryan who is probably the least devious person he has ever met. Seth himself feels pink and flustered, nervous.

Or maybe Ryan is not dissembling. Right now, he is greeting Marissa and Summer with the precise combination of excitement and reserve that they should both be showing. Everybody says "Hey," Marissa a little huskily because since the Tijuana debacle, she seems to be getting a little closer to choosing Ryan, although as Seth remarked to Ryan only this morning, lying naked in his bed, "Dude. It's a good thing you like boys because otherwise my little friend here," his hand wrapped loosely around Ryan's waking erection, "would be in serious trouble."

They go to see the movie after all, Marissa blushing and glancing sideways at Ryan during the steamy bits, Seth watching Ryan looking back at her, Summer watching Seth watching Ryan watching Marissa. Afterward they sit in a diner drinking Cokes and poking at a gigantic ice cream sundae. Summer rattles on soporifically about scandals in the film industry. They are in a booth, the girls on one side, the boys on the other. Bored, Seth rubs his thigh against Ryan's under the table. Ryan's expression does not change, but he leans very slightly into Seth's leg. Seth sheds his sneaker and hooks his entire leg over Ryan's so that he can rub Ryan's far ankle with his now-bare toes. 

The feel of Ryan's skin is soothing and Seth thinks, contentedly, that he could listen to meaningless female chatter indefinitely, the way people listen to babbling brooks. He has just let his head loll back against the cushion when a new sensation brings him sharply awake. An unmistakably female foot is prodding his leg. He looks wildly back and forth between Summer and Marissa, then at Ryan, then realizes Ryan has no idea about the foot because the foot is blocked by Seth's leg.

Ryan looks at him curiously. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Total sugar crash. My god. I think I may have just almost nodded off in a public place."

"Right," says Ryan with equal amounts of affection and sarcasm, "Because that would never happen." It seems to Seth that he sounds exactly like someone talking to a person he is dating. Ryan continues, solicitously, "Do you want to get out of here?" He looks around to make the invitation general and the girls nod and the foot vanishes and the four of them clamber out of the booth and walk down to the beach.

Now in traditional couple configuration, Seth watches with something verging on loathing as Ryan flirts with Marissa ahead of him. Which is ridiculous. He even likes Marissa. But she needs to stay the hell away from his boyfriend. God, he thinks, I have got to calm down. I'm not even sure I'm gay. It's just that I want…Ryan. After a moment he notices Summer watching him. "What?"

She shrugs. "I finally figured it out. Ding ding ding. It took me until now, so, like, no points for me. Whatever. But that whole thing," she gestures at Marissa and Ryan, "is making both of them crazy. And you aren't enjoying it, so," she shrugs again, "I guess someone should say something to someone."

"What? What are you talking about? Say something to someone about what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Give it up, Cohen. I just told you I figured it out. And I have no idea what his deal is, but I'm guessing you're a one-guy guy. I know for damn sure the last thing Marissa needs is another guy who's going to fool around on her."

"Ah. Yes. So that's what you're talking about."

"Yeah. And if he hurts her, I will out you."

"What is that, like a threat? You're threatening me?"

"I'm just saying. You'd better get him under control."

"My god. A month ago you were my ultimate dream girl and now you're like, out of the Sopranos."

"Yeah. Whatever. Anyway. You've been warned." And she slips off her flip-flops and runs down the beach to splash her feet in the surf next to Marissa.

When they get back to the pool house, Seth says, "Uh, Ryan…?"

"Yeah?" They are still vertical but already twined around each other, Ryan's mouth traveling along Seth's collarbone, the bed just behind them. Ryan pulls back and looks at him but it is too dark to see Seth's eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…nothing. Here," tugging at his t-shirt, "let me get this off of you---" And then they are on the bed, Ryan kissing his way down Seth's bare chest, the part of Seth's mind that can still think aware that any chance for talking is already gone.

The thing Seth wants to mention, more than the threat of Summer, is the threat of his mom. Her inner teenager is much more sensitive to the moods and passions of her teenaged son than her outer adult and Seth feels sure that if they are not extremely, fastidiously, scrupulously careful, she will know. But then he also wants to ask Ryan, and is afraid to ask him, whether that might actually be okay. He pictures them, rubbing up against each other on the pier, flirting in restaurants, making out behind the gym or in the library stacks at school. And the thing is, when Ryan is kissing him like this, he thinks, or would if he could think, that Ryan might just say yes.


	2. Antithesis

Disclaimer: These are not my characters.

NB: This is not graphic, but it is SLASH. If you do not like slash, please do not read it.

Ryan, waking first the next morning, remembers Seth's thwarted attempt to talk to him and knows he is in way over his head. He wants Seth, even loves him in a way, but does not honestly think he can define it the way Seth would like. Part of the problem is that his relationship with sex is kind of bizarre. Because it was his parents' only real connection, he associates it with domestic stability. Here, where he is happy and safe, he can offer Seth no greater proof of devotion. 

Which is not exactly the same as being gay. He likes Seth more than any girl at the moment, likes sleeping with him more than anyone so far, but women are…women are the actual thing. Other boys are sex and friendship, but women are inevitability, like gravity, like going home. He wants to make Seth happy but is starting to worry that ultimately Seth wants something Ryan cannot offer. This is the kind of mistake Ryan is used to making, an impetuous, person-focused failure to think ahead. He was so careful not to make it with Marissa that he completely missed himself making it with Seth. And this is so much worse.

Two days later, sitting at the counter in the kitchen eating cereal, Seth says, without looking up, "So, Ryan. What do you think about coming out?"

Ryan stands a few feet away, leaning over the newspaper. "What, Cotillion? It seems kind of stupid. I mean, a formal introduction to people you already know because there are only twenty of you---"

"No. Coming out of the closet."

Ryan looks at him blankly.

"I mean, I'm, uh, I'm talking about us."

Ryan's face freezes into an expression Seth has not seen since the day in juvie. He looks implacable and brittle and mournful all at once.

"Okay, man, sorry, I should never have brought it up. I just---"

"No, it's…"

"I mean if it's too soon, or if it's about me, or if it's just much too heavy to think about… I totally get that. God, I'm not even sure I… 'Cause it's really just you, or you know, you so far. Maybe it's too soon to tell whether---"

"Seth."

"What?"

"I'm not gay."

"Oh. No. Well then. No point in coming out, I guess." He sits for a few minutes, pours more cereal into his bowl, then says, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm…sure."

"Huh. So then," Seth moves his hand back and forth between them in a rapid, off-hand motion, "this is just---"

Ryan grabs his still-moving hand, says, "I like this. I like this a lot." No one else is home and when Ryan kisses him, Seth can't help himself, he leans into it and moans, thinking somewhere in the back of his brain that he has to gather some shreds of fucking dignity and just back the hell off. After what is probably well over a minute, he manages to yank away.

"Right. You like this, but, totally not gay. Interesting. Confusing, for those of us trapped in the game, but definitely helping to reinforce the sexy mystery. So, ah, yeah. Keep up the good work."

Ryan watches him, exasperated and sad and a little lonely, wishing talking were as easy for him as it is for Seth. Although that raw dovetailing of glibness and sincerity pretty much breaks his heart.

Finally Seth says, "I don't understand. Isn't this what being gay…is? I mean, we're having sex, right? And we're both guys. And forgive me if I presume, but I'm pretty sure we're both liking it…"

Ryan says nothing.

"So…" continues Seth, leadingly. "I mean. What the hell?"

There is no explanation and Ryan continues to look at him with a mournful intensity that makes Seth want to stab him. And hug him.

"All right," Seth says finally. "I can see this is going nowhere. I think I'll just, uh, yeah." And he removes himself to the living room. Ryan hears the television click on, follows to stand in the doorway for a while, but Seth does not look up. Eventually, he gives up and gets ready for work.

When he returns that night, Kirsten is the only person home. He walks into the kitchen and finds her leaning against the counter eating ice cream out of the carton. This is such a radical departure from house rules that he just stares at her.

She looks at him without embarrassment and asks, "What the hell is going on with you and Seth?"

"What? What do you mean? Is he all right?"

She sets the ice cream down and folds her arms across her chest. "You tell me."

"I, uh…" She is looking at him with a clinical iciness that he has not seen before. He remembers Seth's warning about her inner teenager and feels vulnerable, as though the usual barriers between her thoughts and his have ceased to exist. "We had kind of a fight this morning."

"About what?"

He looks nervous, shrugs, fails to meet her eyes. "It was just a fight. It wasn't about anything."

"Right." The trauma in his face is so naked that she feels almost sadistic when she says, "An important life lesson, Ryan, is that romantic attachment is almost impossible to camouflage. No one hides it well. You hide it particularly poorly."

"God, I'm so sorry."

Kirsten is not usually an avoider of conflict, but she knows she will not survive the conversation in which she says, "Sandy! They're sleeping together!" and he says, "Honey. They're experimenting. You need to calm down." She also knows it's not entirely Ryan's fault. As much as Seth may expect to be bullied or ignored, he also expects, at the end of the day, to get what he wants. He has an enormous sense of entitlement, as an only child, as a rich boy. Which is more her fault than Sandy's. She wanted him to have all the things she had without the baggage, the guilt, the stentorian parent lording it over you that you could never have built all of this from scratch. 

And she is aware, right now with an immediacy that springs from the same mood that drives Seth to mutter to Ryan in despair, "My _mom_ is listening to _groin_ funk," that you cannot choose whom you love. It's like weather, like standing in a downpour. But there are acts of will. You can choose to walk away. Not without trauma, maybe, but you can. Some people can. She did, once. You have to choose, though, and she knows Seth, in all his righteous innocence, would never choose like that, against his own desire. But Ryan would. If he thought it was the right thing to do. Which is why she has ambushed him tonight, Sandy and Seth safely out of the house, three fingers of single malt steadying her nerve.

She says, "I don't want to be having this conversation any more than you do. Unfortunately, someone needs to have it. And with Seth it will be an emotional explosion and with Sandy it will be endless discussion and an earnest desire to figure out a way to make it okay. And believe me when I tell you that this will never, ever, be okay. So. That leaves us."

"What do you want me to do?"

She looks at him in disbelief. "What the hell do you think I want you to do? I want you to back the fuck away from my son."

"Right." He pauses uncomfortably, gathers himself. "I know. This is so totally not okay. I know that. The thing is, that's really not what he wants."

And now she explodes. "I don't care what he wants! And I sure as hell don't care what you want. My god! Are you completely out of your mind? What can you possibly be thinking to do this under our roof? You're supposed to be brothers! The whole thing is…indescribably sickening."

They are quiet for a moment. Then he asks, "How long have you known?"

"Probably from the beginning. But I only understood what I was seeing last weekend."

"Right." He remembers. She had come in from a late flight to find them asleep on the couch, gently shaken them awake, and sent them off to bed. There was nothing explicitly wrong. They were both fully dressed. There was no post-coital musk hanging in the room. But somehow their soft sleepiness, the way they had stood up together, still touching, and parted with a kind of tender regret, had been far more damning than any random evidence of experimentation. "Yeah," he says. "I remember." 

She picks up her ice cream again and stabs at it. He notices there is also a glass of brown liquor on the counter next to her. Scotch, maybe. She never drinks hard alcohol.

"So. I can be out of here tomorrow."

"Oh, right. Good plan. Just run away. Leave everyone else to deal with your disasters. I can't imagine where you learned that strategy." He looks shocked. "Well I've got some news for you, Ryan. You can't run away anymore. You made a commitment to this family. We made a commitment to you. You are sure as hell going to stay here and put an end to this. I want things to be normal again. I want Seth's life to be normal again."

"But I… How?"

"You break this off with Seth without breaking his heart. You behave like an actual teenaged boy and not a deranged sexual predator. You do not say one thing to Sandy."

"I'm not sure I can. With Seth, I mean." He sounds heartbroken. She remembers how young he is and is amazed by how much she does not care.

"You don't have a choice. I want my family in one piece." She stops and when she starts again she sounds more sad than angry. "I know you think you know something about…what you want. But this is just…wrong. It's impossible even to talk about it. And not being able to have someone you think you want may feel bad, but it won't kill him. Or you. And if you don't fix this, I will. Kill you." Then she puts the ice cream down on the counter, picks up the glass of whiskey, and walks out of the room.

Ryan waits until the next afternoon to tell Seth.

He says, "Your mom knows. About us."

"What? How? She told you that?"

"Yeah. She was…pretty upset."

"So what do you want to do?"

"What do you mean, do? She knows. It's over. The whole thing is over. We have to just…let it go. I don't know. Act normal."

"Normal. What the hell does that mean?"

"Not fucking your foster brother, maybe?"

"Nice. That's really nice, Ryan."

"Well, what the hell did you think was going to happen?"

Seth says nothing. 

"Did you seriously think they would be okay with this?"

"Maybe."

"Not one bad thing has ever happened to you, has it?" 

"Not until now."

"Great. Fine. Not until now."

"Okay, so I'm kind of getting how you feel from this, which is, well, kind of devastating, but anyway, whatever, so I'm thinking, do we really even need to keep having this conversation? I mean, you're making it pretty clear that you think all this stuff is non-negotiable, and well, fine, if that's how you feel, I'm not going to argue with you---"

"I don't _think_ it's non-negotiable! It _is_ non-negotiable! The whole thing is just…crazy. We're supposed to be brothers, Seth. It's like the definition of not okay."

"Yeah, well, you know what, Ryan? What I think is not okay is that I'm not important enough for you to try to figure out another solution."

"Solution?" Then he stops, starts again, "What do you mean, important enough?" And then more gently, "Is that what this is about? Did you think...did you think we were going to be...in love?"

There is a very long pause. 

Finally Seth says, "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it's no longer relevant. And also, it'll just make me feel bad and look pathetic. So this is the thing," he stands up, "I am now officially leaving this conversation. I'll, uh, see you around." And he leaves. 

Ryan stares after him, wretched and exasperated. This was not exactly the disaster he had anticipated, back when he had been worried about how he was going to screw up. He would never have been smart enough to think of something so apocalyptic, so much more ruinous than violence.


	3. Synthesis

Disclaimer: These are not my characters

NB: SLASH, plus a couple of kisses & some weed. You have been warned.

Months later, when things have finally gotten back to normal, or to normal, because they started out so weird, Seth asks Ryan if he and Marissa want to see a band he and Anna like. Ryan likes Anna for Seth even less than he liked Summer for him (actually, Summer has grown on him a lot) but he likes the casualness and sincerity of the invitation, and the idea of another evening at the movies with Marissa makes him want to bang his head against a wall, so he says yes.

The band is playing at a dive bar in Long Beach. It's a ska band, deafening, frenetic, not Seth's usual style. The place is packed, sweaty, the walls painted black, the floor sticky with beer. No one is wearing very much. Marissa and Anna disappear to the women's room and Ryan leans against the black wall drinking beer out of a bottle. Seth comes and leans beside him. It is too loud to talk, so they just stand, drinking and feeling companionable, as if all that stuff last summer means nothing at all.

During the second set, while Anna and Marissa are at the bar, a woman they have never seen before presses up against Ryan and takes a sip of his beer. He cocks a what-are-you-going-to-do-for-me eyebrow at her and she laughs, tugs a cigarette out of her bra, and hands it to him. After she leaves, he turns to see Seth giving him exasperated saucer eyes and Ryan shrugs, all what?-I-can't-help-it-if-I'm-hot and Seth nods that he knows and Ryan looks at the cigarette and Seth looks at him looking at the cigarette and they realize at the same time that it's a joint.

It is instantly obvious to both of them that they should go outside and smoke it. The bar is a few blocks off the beach and they walk into a half-empty parking lot, stand in the shadow of a vine-covered chain-link fence, and light up. Ryan goes first, inhaling deeply, his eyes half closed. Seth takes it from him, holding it delicately between finger and thumb, and then looks up with an expression of such indignant disgust that Ryan starts laughing and coughs up his whole toke.

"Dude," says Seth, outraged, "you just, like, drooled all over the tip. The paper is, well to quote Summer here, it's… Ewww."

Ryan is now laughing so hard he can't talk.

"Great. And somehow you're already stoned. So you don't even care if this thing is totally unsmokeable for the rest of us."

"Sorry, man. I just---"

"Please. Like it was an accident. I know all about you and your crazy saliva."

Ryan stops laughing. Seth does not look up, just concentrates on drying the end of the joint by holding it to one side of the lighter flame. Ryan thinks Seth may have blushed but it is too dark to tell. After a bit, Seth takes a long hit and then hands it back. Ryan says, "Much dryer." Seth just nods without really looking at him. 

When they have smoked it down to the end, Seth drops it on the ground, crushes what's left, and says, "Shall we?" Ryan nods. He can feel himself becoming contemplative. The sky is yellowish gray, overcast, pale with light pollution. The air feels softer than usual. Humid, maybe. He points this out to Seth, who says, "Man, you really are stoned. We have to get back."

The whole bar reeks of beer and sweat, but close up the weed tang is unmistakable. Marissa leans her head into Ryan's neck and asks, "Were you smoking pot?" 

"We, uh, yeah."

Anna says, "What about us?"

"It just kind of happened. It wasn't ours."

"Whose was it?"

"Just this girl. She traded it to us for a beer."

Anna and Marissa share the irritable expression of people who are trying not to be poor sports. When the woman wanders by again, Seth rolls his eyes and grins conspiratorially at Ryan, who smiles at him, thinking how much better he likes the music when he's stoned. He kind of zones out to it and, some time later, is disappointed when Anna insists they leave. They came in her car. Seth drove, but now she looks at him and says, "I'm obviously driving."

"Yeah," says Seth, smiling at her. "I think that's definitely for the best." He tries to kiss her on the way to the parking lot but she shakes him off and when they reach the car, Marissa climbs into the front passenger seat. Seth starts to protest but Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder and they both get into the back. Anna stops at Seth and Ryan's first, lets them out, and then backs down the driveway to take Marissa next door. 

Seth stands in front of the house watching her leave. 

Ryan says, "She's coming back, right?"

"I think actually no. I think she may be pretty pissed."

"This is about the weed?"

"I'm guessing. Or maybe the fraternizing with hot girls."

"Oh, yeah." Ryan thinks about this for a minute. "She was pretty hot."

"Ryan. She was totally hot. She was just wearing, like, a bra."

"And pants."

Seth turns to look at him like he's insane. "Oh, yes. And pants. How ever could I have forgotten? God, you are so messed up right now. You didn't even get a goodnight kiss from the lovely Marissa."

"I think we're fighting."

"About the hot girl?"

"Nah. That was just…that was definitely not the problem."

"Really?" Seth looks skeptical. Then he says, "I thought you guys were doing so well. What with all the inseparability and everything. Some people might say it's been a little extreme. Come to think of it, my _mom_ remarked that it was a little extreme. I think she's worried about you. But hey, far be it from me to knock co-dependency---"

"There was so much build up. It'll be this big defeat for her if it doesn't work out. She doesn't like to fail at things. Grades, clothes, boyfriends. She needs me to turn out well."

"Ryan. I forgot you were so insightful."

"Yeah, well. We haven't been talking a whole lot."

"No, we really haven't." Seth looks around. "And even back when we were talking, it was never in the driveway."

"She's not coming back."

"Yeah, Ryan. I'm feeling that."

"Here, come on," and Ryan leads the way around to the pool. They sit and dangle their feet in the water. Ryan pulls another joint out of his shirt pocket and holds it up.

"Dude. Score. Same girl?"

Ryan nods.

"What did you have to do for this one?"

"I just ran into her by the bathroom and she gave it to me."

"Don't lie to me. You big ho." Seth takes it from him and lights it.

A sense of peace descends over them. Seth can feel the surface of the water where it rings his ankle like someone's finger and thumb. The hum of the pool filter is regular, soothing, maybe beautiful. He drops his head onto Ryan's shoulder. Ryan's body tenses and then relaxes and Ryan very slowly leans his head against Seth's. He feels their hair touch and then the warm convexity of Seth's skull presses against his ear. Seth is still holding the roach, which has gone out. He rubs it against the pool edge anyway and Ryan reaches over, his left hand stopping Seth's, his right gently extricating the stub from his fingers, putting it in his pocket, splashing water over the ash mark. 

Their hands are still touching. Seth looks down at them, recognizes the shape of Ryan's fingers, the raised curve of muscle between index finger and thumb. He lifts his head to find Ryan already watching him. Seth's mouth is dry. He says, "What are we, uh, doing?"

Ryan does not answer. 

"I mean, all that stuff last summer. I thought we decided, well, okay, you decided, but I guess I ended up agreeing… I mean, as it turns out, I actually do find women hot. Not just like, from afar, but literally naked in bed with you with all their---"

"I'm not sure I do. Anymore."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Ryan lifts his fingers to Seth's mouth but Seth yanks his head back.

"Ryan. Seriously, man. I do not have the strength to get into this with you again." Seth sounds a little desperate. Ryan has maneuvered them so they are facing each other, their foreheads almost touching, their lips very close. When Ryan kisses him, Seth feels big black bubbles drift up through his brain and explode. There's a silvery corona around his vision and the edge of the pool feels like the edge of a cliff. He imagines himself hurtling over it, his body spinning in freefall. "Ryan. Stop it---" He wrenches himself away and stands up, dizzy, backs into a lawn chair, sits down.

"God. I'm sorry." 

"No, man, it's okay. It's just… I think I'm kind of stoned."

Seth lies back on the lawn chair and waits to feel normal. Time slows down and speeds up and stops again. At some point, he notices Ryan stretched out on the grass next to him and rolls onto his side to look down at him. He reaches out and touches his arm.

Ryan's eyes are closed. He says, "What?"

"Do you want to go lie down?"

"We are lying down."

"Inside. Do you want to go lie down inside."

"I don't know. Maybe. Do you?"

"Maybe. I think I'm cold."

When they finally get up, Seth is shivering. Ryan wraps his arm around him and they walk into the pool house. Seth turns on a light and immediately feels less stoned. Ryan sits down on the bed and looks at him.

"So. Ryan. What was that out there? I mean, you're the one---"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry like you wish you hadn't done it?"

"Yeah. No. Just sorry." He looks down at his hands. "I'm not exactly over it." He pauses, softly clears his throat, says, "You."

Seth feels his stomach flip over. "What? Dude. You're totally losing me here. I thought---"

Ryan lies down and crosses his arms under his head. "I don't want to talk about it." Seth lies down next to him, carefully not touching him. Then Ryan says, "Look," and Seth says, "Ryan," and this time Seth starts the kiss and Ryan feels his last threads of resistance snapping. He leans his whole body into the solid contact of their chests, the electric danger of their hips meeting, Seth's thigh pressing hard between his legs. Seth pushes Ryan onto his back, climbs on top of him, and then stops moving. Ryan moans in protest and reluctantly opens his eyes. "What?"

"So. What about all that stuff you said last fall? About this being such a bad idea? About pissing off my mom? About not being gay?"

"I don't care anymore. God, I don't care." Ryan closes his eyes again and Seth starts to kiss him, slowly and methodically, recollecting all the things Ryan likes that he stopped doing because Summer or Lara or Anna did not. By the time Seth pulls his shirt off, Ryan is incapable of stringing two words together, but Seth is still sadistically chatty, periodically swinging back out of the moment to talk. It occurs to Ryan that Seth has had a lot more sex in the past few months than he has. 

"So, Ryan. What I'm deducing here is that months of proximity to my scorching hotness have finally worn you down. And, just to be on the safe side, since I'm now hip to the gut-wrenching dangers of optimism, I'll assume you're figuring…" and here he leans in to kiss him, "that this is just a one-time thing…" runs his tongue under his chin, along his neck, in a straight, slow line to his navel, "a brief, regrettable ganja lapse. And that when it's over we'll just keep on…" he settles his weight a little farther back, yanks Ryan's belt open, smiles when he groans, "dating these women---" 

"Seth. Please. God. I will do whatever you want."

Ryan's voice is low and raw and Seth suddenly understands how serious he is, how he is putting his whole fragile self in Seth's hands. He takes a breath and says, "Yeah. I'm, uh, starting to get that." Then he says, gently, "I think for now all I want is pretty much this."


	4. Coda

Disclaimer: These are not my characters.

NB: Implied slash.

Seth pulls a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and shakes it violently. Kirsten is sitting at the counter with her back to him doing paperwork. Without turning around, Seth says, "So. Mom. I guess it won't come as a huge shock to you that Ryan and Marissa broke up." He listens as she sets down her pen. Then he walks around the kitchen to the opposite side of the counter. He pours a glass of orange juice, slowly screws the cap back on, slides the glass back and forth across the counter a few times, finally looks up at her. Her face is very still. "I mean, since I guess you already knew he was in love with someone else."

She doesn't say anything, just watches his eyes.

He says, "Mom. You totally manipulated him into breaking up with me."

"He told you that?"

"You know he didn't."

"I…" she watches him with her even gaze, says, "Yes."

"How could you do that? Why would you do that?"

"Oh, Seth. It was just…" Her forehead crinkles up. "You barely knew him. We barely knew him. It was so fast. It was too much. I wanted everything to slow down. I thought it would be better for you. For both of you." She pauses and then says, "And I was angry. You were so young. You're still so young. You're my baby."

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't listen."

"But you knew Ryan would."

"I thought he would."

"Uh huh. Okay. So you trusted him to do what you thought was the right thing even though you didn't trust him with me."

She sounds rueful, "Pretty much."

"And you were mad enough to go behind my back and not talk to Dad and intimidate the hell out of Ryan, and think he was corrupting me or whatever, but you didn't actually doubt him. You still thought of him as trustworthy."

"Yes? In that way. Yes."

"Mom, that is so messed up." 

"I wasn't just angry, Seth, I was terrified. You two had already gotten in so much trouble together. I thought just being with him you would end up getting hurt. And I know about being in love, believe it or not. People act crazy. You think you're the center of the world, that the rules don't apply. I wanted to protect you. From yourself and from him." 

"Right. Okay. Fine. I'm not mad at you. Anymore." Seth holds her eyes, gathers himself, takes a breath, asks, "How do you feel about him now?"

"Seth. You know I love Ryan."

"Yeah. Okay. Well, I love Ryan, too."

There is a pause as this sinks in. 

Kirsten finally says, "Okay?"

"Yeah. So. We're back together. I mean, we're dating. God that sounds so stupid. Anyway, romantically. There's not really a good word here. You know what I mean."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"Well, there are still rules. You're still seventeen. I don't want you two… I wouldn't have let Summer sleep over here, when you were seeing her."

"It's a little different, Mom. We both live here."

"You know what I mean. No sleeping in the pool house. No…sex."

Seth raises his eyebrows. "No sex?" Then he starts laughing.

"Seth. I'm serious."

"Yeah, okay, Mom. Not till I'm married." He crosses his heart with one finger.

She rolls her eyes, then says, "I just want you to be happy. Are you happy?"

"God, Mom. Seriously. I am so happy." And he grins and she knows that it's true.

"All right then," she says, smiling back. "Come here and give me a hug."


End file.
